The Ego Episodes

Saturday, Dec. 06, 2003

Journal Marathon (Get 5 for the price of 1!)

(Note: Last time you visited, there was a goldfish in here. I didn't know that any attempt taken to update my template would result into the disappearance of said goldfish. I have no idea what's going on but I had to content myself on this built-in purple template (love purple but not this template) rather than leave Ego Episodes hidden. I have yet to figure out what's the problem. Meantime, just imagine this page has a white background, with a goldfish jumping out of a fishbowl.)

This journal is going to be a year old in about a month. Not bad for someone who normally gives up on things the moment boredom sets in. So, wow! I can't believe I'm still here! And writing! What's that you say? I haven't written for almost a month? Wuh -- that's not important. My journal is going to be A YEAR OLD. Hold on to that thought!

A bunch of crazy stuff happened. First, I seem to have forgotten how to forge interesting intros that I just want to dive in to the aforementioned 'stuff', starting off with, of course, one of the most (if not the most) reliable writing technique ever invented: the Bulleted List.

Whip It! Whip It Good!
Joycie Goes to Camp
Friday@Insomnia
Mmm, Pineapple Tarts!
Joycie Goes to Camp ... Again!

Whip It! Whip It Good!
I like whipped cream. A frapuccino is not a frapuccino without whipped cream. Cake, muffin, ice cream -- they go a long way, from snacks to classy desserts with a generous dollop of whipped cream. In other words, I'm a fan of whipped cream. Until one fateful Friday ...

Although the thought of shaking my butt to the Chihuahua song with a bunch of strangers in a park was tempting, the invitation to enjoy authentic (and free!) North Indian cuisine in a restaurant was too good (and rare) to pass up. Add the fact that it's a department gathering and you have the easiest decision ever. So, I went. I was hoping I'd be lucky enough to go home with a prize from the lucky draw. I usually don't win anything, so I was really thrilled when the host called my name. Wee! I won! I WON! All smiles, I stood up and went to collect my prize. Instead of giving me my prize, the host decided to hold a short interview (that felt like forever) and that's when everything took a nasty turn.

Host: I'm sure a lot of you don't know her, right? What's your name?
Joycie: Uhh Mary Joyce. Um, Joyce (quick arm flail).
Host: Ok, Joyce. Where are you from?
Joycie: I'm from NTU and I'm doing my attachment here. (Note: How wrong is this answer? 'Where are you from' could mean, 'which country are you from'. This is more likely since I am obviously a foreigner. And 'here'? HERE??? As in, here in this restaurant? Why didn't I mention the company/department? Just ..wrong.)
Host: So under which competency are you?
Joycie: (flustered, dumbfounded) Uhh ... competency? Uhh ...
Host: You are working under [insert supervisor's name], right?
Joycie: (nods)
Host: (to everyone) Oh ok, she's under [insert manager's name] team. Ok, step aside, you don't get a prize first.
Joycie: Whaa?!? It's unfair! (Wow. I'm so four.)

When another IA student's name was called, I actually exclaimed, "This is a setup!" prompting the host to shush me up with a "No, this is not a setup". Two engineers were called and the four of us were forced to work for our prize. In front of us were four plates, each with three pieces of bubble gum, covered with an overly generous dollop of ... yes. Whipped. Cream. We were asked to scavenge for the gum pieces hidden somewhere inside the whipped cream without using our hands. I had only one thought at that time and it was: Humiliation. Why? Why does it have to be me? WHY? Of course, I didn't want to be seen as a bad sport so I just dug in like everybody else, while trying to look poised under a patch of whipped cream covering at least 50% of my face. Luckily, there was a kind soul who offered wet wipes just as soon as I got my whipped cream facial and after about 2 seconds of distress, I had my mask removed. Out came the whipped cream, in came my face and my jaws chewing mightily. We were asked to chew three (THREE!) pieces of gum and even for a gum-chewer, that's waaay too much. In the end, I blew the biggest bubble and I got my prize. If by 'prize' you mean two cushiony-type, little-men-with-bellies-shaped handphone holders, which could easily function as voodoo dolls, had it not come from IKEA.

Dear Whipped Cream,
I'm still a fan. Just ... get off my face!

Love lots,
Girl Traumatized of Facials

Joycie Goes to Camp
Not much to say here. I had work during the day so I could only join the choir during the night, which was not exactly the most exciting part of the camp since it's when you practice the competition pieces with your two (Not one! But two!) conductors. I went straight from work to choir practice for three consecutive days. It. Was. Exhausting. Three (days), because I skipped the last day. So I missed all the fun. Or so they told me. But bleh, I'd rather go party (woops!) er, I mean, finish my report due for submission the next day.

Speaking of party ...

Friday@Insomnia
I don't care if Monday's blue/ Tuesday's gray and Wednesday, too/Oh Thursday, I don't care about you/ It's Friday, I'm in love!

Yeah! Nothing like The Cure, dudes. Nothing like The Cure. Scarily uncharacteristic speech (and pimping) aside, I finally made my way to Insomnia at Chijmes with Jussy and Hark and friends. Okay, that's one item off my list of Things To Do Before IA Ends. What's so great about Insomnia? The live band. They're loud! And they sound good! I want to be a lead singer!

I'm not kidding. I really want to be a lead singer in a band. That has been my dream for a long time. I'm not really doing anything about it because hey, where does a working girl find time? Hee, working girl. I am so not. Anyway, I was thinking, I could find a nice, stable day job and be a band vocalist at night. How's that? Okay, visualizing ... whoah. That's good! Really good! And also, unrealistic. Oh well, who can tell? (rhyme!)

I've never seen so many people showing their stuff on the dance floor like nobody's business. (Yes, I don't have a night life.) The grind thing? So there. Even if the music did not really call for it. There was this girl who knows only one dance step (coupled with facial expression) and she was cute (literally). There were more than enough out-of-beat arm flailings and weird butt shakings that I stayed off the dance floor. Well, okay, I danced a little. The frozen margarita made me do it.

Reached room feeling urgency of sleep. Exhausted, I dragged myself to the bathroom to wash off the cigarette smell. So that's why I don't have a night life. I hate the cigarette smell. I can stand it but no way am I going to bed with that stuff lingering about in my room. Blow-dried my hair before collapsing on bed at about 5 am.

Four hours later, I woke up. Aaah! Report! Must! Submit! Report! I rushed to the library to have my report spiral-bound before handing it personally to my tutor. Whew! I could now move on with my life! (Note: I'd like to mention that without JJLo's -- oops, he hates this nick, so let's call him STH for "stop touching him!" (the backstory of which will be related in some later entry).Anyway, without STH's reliable printer (which suffered from severe ink loss after my vampire-like Report sucked the life out of it) and Evad's supervision, my evil Report would not have made it to its rightful destination -- my tutor's. So, thanks, you guys!)

Uhhh hello? Still with me? Great! Let's move on. I'm not yet done.

Mmm, Pineapple Tarts!
Being an international student has its perks. The experience of living independently in a foreign land is as exciting as it is rewarding, you'd want to treasure every moment of it. One of my favorites is when I get invited to someone's house to celebrate a holiday and eat festive home-cooked meals. This year, I've been invited by my host family to celebrate Deepavali with them. And of course Joycie ate a lot -- chapatti with yogurt, chicken curry, and fish, to name some. Then, I finished everything off with a bowl of soursop de fruit cocktail courtesy of the foodcourt (with large windows!) in Hougang Mall.

Let me just side track a bit. I'm tired -- of writing this. I started writing this entry last Monday. Four days later, I'm still wringing every iota of diarist in me to finish this thing. Why this sudden wringing? I don't know but it has to do with me ... feeling like ... well, like I lost something. I guess I'm bored and tired. Put Bored and Tired in a boxing match against Excited. Who will win? My money's on Bored and Tired, because I am, bored and tired. Oh, how whiny! Not to mention illogical! And this is not even my "I'll be Home for Christmas (NOT!) Hu hu hu" entry. Okay, enough. Back to wringing.

About two years back, I visited a family for Chinese New Year. Thank God for tradition, I got to feast off different CNY goodies. The best goody? Pineapple tarts. I just love, love, LOVE pineapple tarts! Can't get enough of them! I'm thinking of buying me a jar (or two) of this stuff. Ooh, I should buy them in Chinatown! Or anywhere! Since CNY's just around the corner! Love CNY!

So: Deepavali? Check. Chinese New Year? Check. Hari Raya? CHECK! With the help of the university's International Students Center, I was asked to tag along to visit a Malay family for Hari Raya. So off we went and after being ushered inside the living room, what should be waiting for us but -- wait for it -- pineapple tarts! Fortunately, I was able to exercise enough self-control to end up eating only about three (Okay, four. Um, maybe five? I didn't count.) pieces of homemade pineapple tarts. Emphasis on the homemade, because not only are the pineapple tarts homemade, even the honeycomb cakes, almond cookies, and all sorts of Hari Raya goodies, are homemade, too. See, if you've been away from home and thus forced to eat out like, all the time? You'll understand my longing for any home-cooked food. Just ask Jussy. Or Berilacchub. Or Cornchild. Or Timuy. Speaking of Timuy, welcome, new kid on the block! And by 'block', I meant 'diaryland'. Go read him. Good stuff. I should really consider a career on pimping, er, I meant advertising. Anyway, to continue, I ate a lot. Like, of course! Also, I ate with my hands! Haven't done that in a long time but that doesn't explain why I still suck at eating using my hands. I seriously have to lose that ladylike conduct when eating sans spoon and fork. And by 'ladylike conduct', I meant 'pinkie rising above all the other fingers'. Anyway, to continue (again), I enjoyed myself so much that I took a photo to commemorate the moment. I left thinking how I would've enjoyed myself more if I had taken some pineapple tarts home.

I kept typing and typing and hello! Last sub-entry! Woohoo!

Joycie Goes to Camp ... Again!
This was a Friday. I remember going out for lunch that day, having a chunk of chicken mayo accidentally thrown on my jeans, taking a long break in the afternoon, and going home with a slight case of headache due to sleep deprivation. Took a bath and stuffed some essentials in my backpack before going off to church. Yes, church -- a.k.a. Venue for the (First Ever) 9 am Choir Camp '03. Okay, church. I love our church. I think it's a great place to hear mass and eat breakfast. But is it a great place for sleeping? NO. No, it so is not. (Warning: Whiny Joycie will be taking over for a few sentences. Skip if necessary.) We did everything we could. We had sleeping bags and there were pillows for everyone. Theoretically, with this arrangement, anyone should be able to get a decent amount of sleep. Theoretically. Except. Me. The floor was hard as ... as a floor! And, thanks to my deteriorating appetite, I apparently did not have enough fatty deposits to cushion my bones against the very and I emphasize the 'very', hard floor. And just like the princess in The Princess and the Pea, I didn't get a wink's rest. Thus endeth the whineth.

Saturday -- morning. Early -- morning. 6:30 in the morning. We're up (already). We'd have taken our baths right away save for a small problem. Our church does not have a single bathing facility. So we took a bath elsewhere. One bus ride and plenty of Christmas carols later, we reached our [bathing] destination. So we went to this um, condominium? To take a bath. Yes, we did. No, you get out! It's like going inside a five-star hotel just to pee. But fun-ner.

We had our breakfast by the poolside. Ooh, breakfast! We had sandwiches -- ham, lettuce and dijonnaise (do I hear a "huh?") for added flavor. Dijonnaise is not mayonnaise nor would I acknowledge the two to be substitutes of each other. Mayonnaise rules! The fatty types, not those nonfat, reduced fat, etc. So what is dijonnaise, you ask. It's a combo between Dijon mustard and mayonnaise. Dijon. Mustard. How dare they combine it with my mayo! No to combo! Solo Mayo! Okay, if you say "Solo Mayo" with an accent, you'd end up saying O Sole Mio. It's a song, for those who didn't know. It's important, for those who think otherwise.

Aaanyway, we basically listened to speakers and sang for the most part of the afternoon. If not for the constant supply of hazelnut wafers, I'd have collapsed of exhaustion. Sleepless and singing with triple layers of eye bags do not a happy camper make. So: thank you, hazelnut wafers!

I'm glad I pushed my exhaustion (and laziness) aside to participate in this camp. It's good to be reminded that hey, this is our job and it's important that we do it well. I also got to know some people a little bit better and it makes me happy that I can call them my friends.

>>>

My journal is going to be a year old in about a month. It got me thinking whether I've grown as a person in that one year. Not that one needs a journal in order to grow. But I think my journal made a difference.

Oh, here's the link to the guestbook.

{ joycie at 9:52 a.m.}